


The Hour of Providence

by lostchildofthenewworld



Series: Continuum [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Elia Martell Deserves Better, Elia Martell Lives, Elia Martell-centric, F/M, Minor Cersei Lannister/Stannis Baratheon - Freeform, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, POV Elia Martell, no beta we die like Rhaegar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostchildofthenewworld/pseuds/lostchildofthenewworld
Summary: Intervention, not by any godly means but by her own.
Relationships: Elia Martell & Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister & Elia Martell, Jaime Lannister/Elia Martell, Tywin Lannister & Elia Martell, Tywin Lannister & Jaime Lannister
Series: Continuum [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029861
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37
Collections: Southern Renaissance (Dorne Renaissance)





	The Hour of Providence

**Author's Note:**

> "Providence:
> 
> 1.) The protective care of God or of nature as a spiritual power (synonyms: divine intervention, fate, destiny).
> 
> 2.) Timely preparation for future eventualities (synonyms: prudence, forethought, foresight, judgment)."

Her life was a life made up of contrast, where she compared the before and after, the then and now. Comparisons made not just of herself but of everyone around her, because that is what war does, what death does – it changes you. Where she had smiled easily before, so very few graces her face now. Where she was once open to those around her, now she guards herself with the finest armor she knows – indifference and silence.

Funny how time works, because she sits where her mother once sat when they had come to Casterly Rock and her mother was brokering a marriage between House Nymeros Martell and Lannister. Now however, there is no need for her mother to do so – though she is long dead – and there is no need for her elder brother to do so either. No, Elia can make her own demands and so she shall. Before as a child she had withered under Lord Tywin’s gaze, especially when they had come the second time and he had offered her a babe but now she finds there is no need to be cowered by the Old Lion.

It had taken many moons of secret correspondence and whispers that were carefully placed by herself and her ladies. But soon the realm would know of her marriage and she is somewhat surprised that it has managed to stay quiet for so long. No doubt it was done with hard work, with meticulous minds working in tandem with her own, but she would have thought that Lord Varys would be spreading his own whispers, then again, she imagines that his little birds are quite busy with cleaning up the mess Aerys and Rhaegar made.

There is hardly time for the realm to spare a thought to the fallen would-be queen nor a disgraced knight, Elia laughs under her breath at the thought before she wipes her face clean as she steps into Lord Tywin’s solar with Jaime just behind her, his presence brings her comfort.

Jaime is kind enough to pull out her chair for her to sit and she does so, but her eyes do not leave Lord Tywin’s gaze as Jaime sits down next to her. The solar is quiet, outside of a servant pouring water into their cups, as they all take measure of one another.

Elia knows that Lord Tywin thought less her before, now he probably thinks even less because she had been robbed of her crown, her babes robbed of their birthright and now he must think she is what he believes all Dornishmen are, snakes that slither to the next best thing. But _that_ is not true, not even close to it. Because while she sees Jaime, Jaime _sees_ her and that is worth so much to her, not the protective gaze that her family holds for her or even the pitiful ones that she received when she left King’s Landing with her head held high, no Jaime sees her and how lovely that is to be seen, not for her deficits but because of her own mind and thoughts.

A part of her hopes that Lord Tywin will understand but she knows that the Lion of the Rock is not moved by sentimentality, not where she is concerned, for if that were the case then she and Jaime would have been wed the second time her family came knocking for a betrothal.

“Do you care to explain yourself, writing to me with frivolous words all but demanding, me, _me_ , here and for what?” Lord Tywin does not raise his voice but his piercing tone in the large room makes her spine stiffen even more.

While Lord Tywin remained looking at her, his question is obviously poised towards Jaime and Elia takes a brief look, a small look and stares at Jaime and notices that he is not cowed by his lord father. Then again it is hard to tremble before a lion when you walked in a mad dragon’s court for so long.

“I shall be taking Elia as my wife in a moon’s time, I figured it was time I settle down and marry,” Jaime response is flippant but they both had discussed what they would say before they even arrived in his father’s solar. “Afterall, you’re the one who encouraged me to do so,” he adds on smugly.

Lord Tywin’s ice green eyes blaze for a moment, “yes, marry a woman who can give you heirs, who can further House Lannister. I do not see that.”

 _If he thinks to make me cowed, he shall have to try better than that,_ because while Aerys had been insane and lost in his throes of madness and brutality, the man truly had the gift of insulting someone where their sense of self began to dim from his words.

“Please, Cersei is already with child and another Baratheon will soon be brought into this world after one has departed so soon,” there was a slight quiver of anger in Jaime’s voice at Tywin’s comment about her own fertility or the common belief that she lacked it.

Elia noticed how Jaime does not mention the possible children that little Tyrion could have, and she was not the only one who noticed the lack of his mention – if Tywin wicked gleam was of note.

She leans forward towards the table, her hands entwined with one another as she clears her mind and speaks for the first time. “While I understand your concerns for your house, as it is your due as its lord, I am not infertile, no matter how some may wish me to be or believe me to be. As I am sure you know, my lord.”

Her eyes narrow at Lord Tywin, for she knows that Grand Maester Pycelle is Lord Tywin’s creature. The _good_ maester at Dragonstone, Maester Lynel had told her another birth would do what Aegon’s birth almost did to her, kill her. Grand Maester Pycelle only furthered that statement in the capital when she had gone to present her son to his grandsire.

Even as a child the Orphan healers had told her parents that her ability to get with child would be a struggle just because of her fragile health. She knows that, for the Mother’s sake she knows this better than anyone, but she also knows her body well. Knows how much more she can take and if she wants her plans to come to fruition then there is a cost that must be paid, a debt that is owed.

She is not foolish, she knows that another birth, while it may have the potential to kill her, she knows that it will possibly wreak havoc on her already poor health that just barely began to improve.

But Elia is not left with much choice, for as much as she knows Lord Tywin can take a child of Cersei’s or even a Lannister cousin for his heir’s heir, she knows he wants an heir from Jaime’s loins.

That is a debt that must be paid for Lord Tywin’s support.

A part of her, a part of her hates the men of this world, the men in power who demand so much from women and give so little in return. Elia doubts that she will ever truly care for Lord Tywin for his blatant disrespect is too much for her to take, but so long as he does not burn lord paramounts or their heirs, then does she really have much to complain about? 

* * *

Elia did not really have any plans for Cersei Lannister, now Cersei Baratheon and the only reason she was meeting with her was because Jaime encouraged it, saying his sister needed a lady friend who understood the matters that his sister held close to her heart outside of their aunt Genna.

He seemed genuinely worried and so as dutiful as she is, she acquiesced and went to find her soon to be good sister. The memories that Elia had of Cersei were not pleasant, though they had shared some laughs and smiles as children those days have long since passed.

She felt worn, stretched too thin as she sat in Lord Tywin’s solar for hours upon hours just weeks before settling on a dowry and putting together the wedding. Elia longed to sleep, to sleep as deeply as she did without the need for milk of the poppy.

But alas, she could not afford the luxury of genuine sleep because she had a lioness to face. The long halls were quiet, and she got use to the lingering stares of servants, obviously so very surprised to know that their future lady was going to be a Dornishwoman, the former wife of the Crown Prince lingering their halls and making changes to make this place her home now. Of course, she had seen the usual scorn for her Dornishness, though those glares never appeared when Elia walked with Jaime or even Lord Tywin.

She shook her head, knowing that she will have to come up with a plan in order to buy and then genuinely earn the love and trust of her future husband’s bannermen and people.

 _If it is not one thing, then it is another, the gods only give peace for a while before throwing their servants back into the chaos._ Though she knows that this specific chaos is of her own making.

Her time away had been a respite but she knows she is fighting an uphill battle so she will have to count her victories wherever she can, the first one she gained by getting Lord Tywin to see the merriment in her plans, her second victory will be against the lioness, or so she hopes.

Standing outside of the guest chambers she knocks against the tall wooden door soundly. She can hear shuffled feet before the door is open and she is met with storm blue eyes.

“Lord Stannis, I must welcome you to Casterly Rock and give my condolences for your loss. Though distant our blood may be, I was sad to hear of the demise of my cousin,” at night when she is truly alone, she still finds it staggering that one drop of Valyrian blood gives her access to such a claim.

For she had been genuinely saddened but relieved when she got wind of Lord Robert’s death, because while they had never spoken to one another truly, it was another reminder that another kin had fallen and was lost to her.

But another part of her knew that for all her mournful thoughts of the man, she wondered if he would have mourned her had he been the one to slay Rhaegar and what would his response had been to her and her children, for the knowledge of the annulment was not made public until after the war. It was another strike against Rhaegar in her mind, for his cowardice which was already costly could have spelled an unfortunate and untimely doom for not just herself but also her children.

“I thank you,” though it seemed as though he was not thankful at all based upon the hardened look on his face. _Men grieve differently,_ she reminds herself, remembering the way her uncle had mourned at the death of his brother, her father. Men do not grieve like women and it was not her place to try to ply, so instead she spoke for the true reason as to why she was there.

“I am here for the Lady Cersei, her brother wished for us to speak and I do hope to get to know my soon to be good sister better, for it has been awhile since our childhood when we played in the sea,” Elia commented though she did not even need to finish her sentence because the Lady Cersei walked behind her husband, those green sea-foam eyes so like Jaime but without the warmth, without the familiar horror to them pierced her as they both took measure of one another.

“I shall return in a while Stannis,” it was not said for comfort but more like a command and Elia saw how Lord Stannis jaw had clenched and his face hardened even more.

No more was said as they walked down the halls, turning towards a corridor with their guards trailing softly behind them, as they walked out towards the gardens.

As they sat down in at the garden table, they stared at one another and it felt so familiar as they had done the same thing when they were children, watching one another as their brothers trailed after them, waiting on their word for what came next.

 _Time, so fickle it is,_ she mused to herself. 

“I wondered about you, when father wrote and said that Rhaegar had put you aside, I thought good riddance, only to find out that he married that northern chit,” Cersei snarked out though Elia could hear ‘what a waste’ under her breath.

“Indeed,” is all Elia said before taking a sip of the wine that before she scowled at the extreme sweetness and she waved down a servant to take the wine away in order to get her something else.

“If we had married, I would not be where I am, neither would you,” Elia looked away from the flowers and stared at Cersei before throwing back her head and laughing.

She laughed so hard she clutched her stomach, trying to soothe herself but it barely helped, and she watched Cersei’s face morph into a hideous scowl.

“I am sorry, I do not mean to offend but you must understand,” Elia allows her chuckles to die off as she collects her breath, “Rhaegar is obsessed with his prophecies. The song of ice and fire. Though we are not friends, I know you enough Cersei to know that you are as much of ice as Dorne is filled with snow.”

Another chuckle escaped her lips at the very thought and another bout of laughter filled her. To onlookers who passed, they would think that Lord Tywin’s daughter and his future good daughter were getting along fabulously.

Foolish people they are.

“No, Rhaegar would have done to you what he did to me, and he’d have no remorse for it because his prophecy takes precedence,” Elia states confidently.

However, in her heart, it twisted at the thought of what would befall Jaime’s sister had she indeed had been in her place, had she been the one trapped in King’s Landing with no one to protect her. It made Elia fear what would have happened if Aerys had taken a fancy to the lioness who bore such a resemblance to the Lady Joanna. What would Jaime do? Instead of locking him away would he had killed the man in defense of his sister instead? 

Her stomach soured at the very thought and she banished it from her mind, not wanting to think about Aerys and his deformed state any longer.

“So, you say,” Cersei answers her with a sniff, as her right hand shifts down towards her stomach. At this Elia can see the way her face softens, her hand rubbing soothingly over the small protruding roundness which makes a soft twitch of her lips appear.

“You will love your children, of that there is no doubt. When the time comes you will lay sweaty and bloodied and you will scream and wish you were never with child from the beginning. But the moment they are placed in your arms, the moment their eyes open and look upon yours, it is a feeling that is inexplicable.” Her thoughts move toward Rhaenys' birth, how tired she was, how she had got a simple glimpse of her babe before sleep took her and when she had woken, she had been in awe of her babe. Rhaenys had been her sun, so bright in the darkness of her sleep that she crawled her way out of, because she wanted to meet the babe she had only seen just a glimpse of.

Cersei speaks though her voice does not hold the razor edge as she usually does, “you love your children.”

“More than my life, I am sure you know why I am here, or at least part of the reason why,” Elia retorts back to her nodding her head at the servant that brought forth some new wine.

“Yes, my father has made it abundantly clear.”

“Indeed,” is all she says as she raises her cup of wine to her lips, pleased that it is Dornish red.

Cersei picks up her own spiced honey wine and takes a long sip before she speaks, “quite so.” 

**Author's Note:**

> After the wedding, we'll be getting into fluff town. 
> 
> I get two weeks off for winter break and I'm fucking happy because while it is the start of Winter Break and whew jesus has it been a long ass year. I was practically chomping off the bits last Friday when I literally Tokyo Drifted out of the school parking lot when I left work. 
> 
> Being a teacher is rewarding, but the bureaucracy is fucking bullshit and I hate it with a vehement passion. If you've emailed me, sorry but I just need some time away from answering emails because that's all I've been doing for since the start of September so unless its a notification from ao3 about a story I follow being updated, then everything else is DND, lol sorry not sorry but god - this year blows and I'm putting out good energy for 2021 to be more rewarding and less taxing for myself and everyone around me. 
> 
> Also first semester of Grad School down while I was taking only 2 courses, I still made a 4.0 gpa this semester so FUCK YEAH. 
> 
> I'm active on tumblr (lostchildofthenewworld.tumblr.com) but that's just me shit talking and enjoying the Dorne fandom in peace. Hope everyone is enjoying themselves.


End file.
